even the wrong words seem to rhyme
by faitaccompli23
Summary: Auslly. AU. Complete. Austin Moon is restless, famous, and a bit of a Scrooge. In the aftermath of a disastrous interview, he volunteers to perform at a holiday charity concert for the sake of good publicity. Ally Dawson is the bright, brilliant songwriter organizing the fundraiser, an unashamed Christmas enthusiast. On collision, sparks flying, and a little bit of holiday magic.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This one's been a bit difficult to hash out; this Austin got famous very early on, without all of Team Austin; so he's still sweet and charming, but also a little bit of a cynic. (in my mind.) I'm working through some kinks with the Austin/Ally dynamic here, but I had multiple requests for another Austin-and-Ally-in-their-early-20s, and I've been mulling over a holiday-ish one like this for awhile. I'm not quite sure where I'm going with it, but I figured I'd put up the first chapter, just to see if people are feelin' it/think it's worth continuing. Please let me know what you all think!

* * *

_I feel it in my fingers,_  
_I feel it in my toes;_  
_Christmas is all around me,_  
_and so the feeling grows._

**_-Billy Mack_**

"Happy holidays ma'am."

"Thanks! Happy holidays to you too." Ally Dawson, twenty-two, beams at the cashier as she wraps her scarf snugly around her neck and picks up her grocery bags. She steps into the chilly December night with a shiver. This is her first winter in Boston, and the weather is vastly different from both Miami and LA, where she spent her childhood and college years. Her mind drifts to past Christmases; tinsel and Christmas trees in Sonic Boom, caroling with her dad around the mall, hot chocolate and skating with Trish during their first years at UCLA. The memories of college are tinged with bittersweet nostalgia, and Ally finds herself grateful for the vast difference between Boston and Los Angeles.

* * *

UCLA had been everything she'd ever hoped for in college: she was majoring in music, rooming with her best friend, and the city was filled with a life and vitality that lit up her world. Her talent for songwriting caught the attention of a few of her professors, who introduced Ally to breakout artists and small-venue performers around the city. She was doing everything she loved: going to school, spending time with friends, and writing music. Then, her senior year of college, Ally co-wrote an album for Kira Starr that went double platinum. Suddenly, everything changed: she was getting offers from around the country from record labels and producers and other contract-waving executives, people started approaching her with invitations to parties and trips to Cabo, and she was _popular_ in a way she'd never been in high school. It had seemed like a dream come true.

But the more time passed, the more she saw that it wasn't her dream. Most of the people she met wanted something specific from her: the exact anatomy of a hit song, a fail-proof recipe for success, the kind of mechanical songwriting she dreaded. It was a world of pretty faces and glittery facades and shortcuts to fame, a world that relied on connections and wealth and a very, very good poker face. And that wasn't a world she could fit herself into, not without changing everything that made her Ally Dawson: cloud-watcher, optimist, musician, starry-eyed dreamer. Most of those contracts were meant to clip the wings she'd found in college; she just wanted the freedom to find her own sound, and all of a sudden, LA was suffocating and overwhelming. So on a whim, after graduation, she took a job offer as far from Hollywood as she could imagine, as a songwriter for a Boston-based recording company: Blue Monday Records. In a lovely twist of fate, Trish accepted a spot in an MBA program at Boston University, and in a blur of packing and goodbyes, the two were East Coast-bound.

* * *

An icy breeze jolts Ally from her reverie and she makes the split-second decision to pop into the coffee shop next door before making the trek back to her apartment. The door jingles as she swings it open, and cozy warmth hits her in a wave of cinnamon-vanilla scented air. The cafe is fairly full, but the line moves quickly; in a matter of moments, Ally's at the front of the line. The girl at the counter shoots her a familiar grin.

"Hey Ally. Peppermint mocha?" She's already punching the order into the cash register.

Ally nods with a laugh. "Thanks Katie." She hands over a five-dollar bill, depositing the leftover change into the tip jar next to the register. She's only been waiting a few minutes before the barista at the espresso station is handing Ally a paper cup piled high with whipped cream. Ally wraps her fingers around the cup with a contented sigh. It still surprises her sometimes, the things about Boston that are already so familiar.

When she and Trish had first gotten here, in July, she'd spent a few days exploring the streets near their Beacon Hill apartment. She'd stumbled on The Pavement Coffeehouse by accident, seeking iced caffeine and sugar after a particularly rushed day at work. She'd fallen in love immediately with the mismatched furniture and quirky murals: and a blueberry muffin and iced latte hadn't gone amiss either. Now she's a regular, and it makes Boston feel a little bit more like home.

Ally maneuvers her way to the door, waving a quick goodbye to Katie as she leaves. The wind outside has abated a little, and the three blocks to her apartment don't seem nearly as daunting with sustenance in hand. A spiral of steam from the cup in her hands wafts into the air, and she catches a whiff of peppermint. It's Christmassy and comforting and she smiles a little as she takes a sip. It's molten chocolate and bittersweet coffee and silken peppermint cream and by the time she reaches her apartment, she's finished the cup. She adjusts the grocery bags in her hand as she unlocks the door, quickly slipping in and kicking it shut behind her.

"Trish?"

"I'm in the kitchen!"

Ally walks towards the kitchen, sidestepping the peeling linoleum in the doorway. She drops the bags next to the fridge and tosses her coat and her keys onto the table next to Trish, toeing off her shoes with a sigh of relief.

"Friday nights are beautiful, wonderful things." She says, nudging aside grocery bags with her foot as she opens the freezer to grab a pint of fruity mint swirl.

"Long day?" Her best friend looks up from a stack of textbooks at the kitchen table. "You look exhausted."

Ally throws herself onto the couch with a groan.

"Sam put me in charge of this fundraiser Blue Monday's doing with the Boston Conservatory of Music. It's an annual thing for the Conservatory, but this is the first year we've been picked as the co-host, so he wants everything to be perfect." She sighs as she thinks about Blue Monday's neurotic owner, propping herself against an armrest to look at Trish. "The problem is, it's absurdly last minute; the only reason the Conservatory asked us is because their first choice backed out a few days ago. Plus Sam's been working for months on signing Jessie Prescott, and contracts are just going through now. Half the staff is wrapped up with closing that deal. So he asked me to handle booking a performer, and catering, and decorating, and the venue-" She waves her arms emphatically. "Basically everything!"

"Breathe, Ally." Trish sounds a little amused at how flustered her best friend is. "You've planned events before; didn't you organize all those holiday concerts at Sonic Boom?"

"Nothing of this magnitude. It's just, this is my first big assignment at my new job. I'm just a songwriter. I don't know how to handle any of this." Ally slumps back down into the couch. "Who am I even going to get to perform?"

Trish tilts her head as she makes a note in the margins of her textbook. "Aren't you and Kira Starr pretty close? Give her a call."

Ally's eyes light up. "Trish, you're brilliant!"

"I do what I can." Trish shrugs as she brushes imaginary dust off her shoulders. She makes a face at the notebook in front of her. "It'd be great if you could tell that to my civics professor though."

* * *

Ally calls Kira the next morning, fingers crossed. Despite the circumstances of her departure from LA, she and Kira have remained fairly good friends; Kira's skyrocketing career means she tours on the East Coast fairly regularly, and the two often meet up for coffee, or videochat to catch up. As friends, its been easy to forget how famous Kira really is. As a client calling a performer, her celebrity is a little daunting. Kira's performance schedule is almost always booked, and despite their friendship, Ally knows that the chances of her being free are pretty slim. Still, she supposes it can't hurt to try.

The girl in question picks up cheerfully. "Hey lady! Haven't talked to you in weeks; how's Boston?"

"Oh, you know. Cold." Ally sandwiches the phone between her ear and her shoulder as she reaches for her laptop. "But Christmassy and wonderful."

"Oooh, I wish we got more snow." Kira replies wistfully. "I'd love a white Christmas."

"Speaking of Christmas." Ally pauses as she pulls up her calendar. "I was wondering if you were free December 23rd? My studio's co-hosting this annual gala with the Boston Conservatory to raise money for arts funding in public schools, and you'd be a lifesaver if you said you could perform."

"Hm." Kira mutters thoughtfully. "Let me check."

Ally waits patiently as there's a few minutes of rustling on the other end.

"I'm so sorry." Kira says regretfully, and Ally's stomach sinks. "I'm booked that day, for this Christmas parade in Paris. You know I'd drop it for you in a heartbeat if I could, but I think my manager committed me weeks ago."

"No worries." Ally tries to disguise the disappointment in her voice. It would've been great to have Kira in town for the holidays, and she knows the singer would've brought in a much larger audience than anyone else she's going to get this last minute. "I'm sure there must be someone in the area whose free; I'll just call around a little more."

"Wait!" Kira exclaims after a brief pause. "I know; I've got a friend here in LA who's free. Austin Moon. I could call in a favor."

Ally breathes sharply. "Austin Moon? Like, triple platinum, two world tours, famous since age sixteen, cover of every magazine, Austin Moon?"

Kira laughs. "That's the one."

Ally wrinkles her nose. "He's a triple platinum recording artist with millions of fans, both in the U.S. and internationally. He must have plans already."

"Austin's not big on Christmas. He won't have any big performances scheduled."

"And you think he'd cross the country for a Christmas children's fundraiser?" Ally replies dubiously.

"He needs the... positive publicity." Kira says carefully.

Ally's voice is a little concerned. "What did he _do_?"

Kira sighs. "Well..."

* * *

"Let me get this straight." Dez pauses mid-pace to look at Austin in disbelief. "You-on national public broadcasting_,_ I might add-told a live audience _filled with children_ that Santa Claus doesn't exist?"

Austin frowns. "Well, when you put it like that..."

Dez drops a stack of magazines on his desk with a bang. "Look at these headlines! Austin Moon, the Singer that Stole Christmas? Album Sales Plummet as Angry Parents Boycott Young Scrooge's Music?" He shakes one of the magazines vigorously. "Austin, what were you thinking?" Dez sits down, dropping his head to his hands and taking a long breath.

Austin winces sheepishly. "I didn't know the cameras were rolling. And you know Christmas isn't my thing! I was talking with the interviewers and I kind of-" He makes a face. "Well, they brought up Christmas spirit and I started talking about how I think it's all a commercialized ruse created by advertisements and sho-"

Dez interrupts. "I don't get you. You used to love Christmas when we were kids. And now you're so-" He pauses thoughtfully. "Jaded." He ignores Austin's half-hearted glare and waves him on. "So how did the Santa Claus thing come up?"

"Well, then I used Santa Claus as an example of the things that are processed and artificial about the holiday, and I kind of forgot there were kids in the audience until-" He clears his throat awkwardly. "Until they started crying." He sighs. "I suck, Dez. I know. I'm sorry."

Dez stares at him in equal parts amusement and exasperation. "How do you get yourselves into these situations?"

"Hey, like you're one to talk about situations. I seem to remember one time at the zoo in elementary school when you gave a kangaroo your pants."

Dez splutters. "He looked cold. And that was elementary school. You're twenty-two, Austin."

"I will get you tickets to every Zalien premiere in the foreseeable future." Austin fold his hands pleadingly. "Just help me fix this? I may not believe in it, but I don't want to ruin Christmas for-" He looks down at a magazine cover thoughtfully. "The Children and Future Entreprenuers of America, Held Back by Newly Dashed Holiday Dreams." He grimaces. "Yikes."

Dez sighs and reaches for his phone. "What are best friends and managers for, right?" He scrolls through his contacts. "Kira Starr called earlier this morning with the number of some recording studio that's hosting a holiday fundraiser with the Boston Conservatory of Music for public school arts programs. They need a performer. She thought you might be interested." Austin opens his mouth to protest the location, and Dez points at him emphatically. "No. Grinches don't get an opinion." He scribbles a number on a sheet of paper and hands it to Austin. "Ally Dawson. She's organizing everything; I'll contact her and book the gig, but you might want to call her to introduce herself. The two of you'll be spending a lot of time together in the next month."

Austin looks down at the paper in his hand as Dez dials a number and moves into the hallway.

"Hello, Ally Dawson." He murmurs thoughtfully.

* * *

Ally's eating lunch on Sunday when she gets a phone call from an LA area code. She practically chokes on her pickle as she tries to answer, coughing up what feels vaguely like her right lung.

"Ah, hello?" The voice on the other sounds concerned.

"Hi." She rasps. Then clearing her throat, she repeats herself. "Hi. Sorry. Respiratory difficulties. May I ask who's speaking?"

"This is Austin Moon."

She almost chokes again. When Kira had told her that Austin would call her about the gig, she'd been half-convinced no one would contact her at all. After all, a popstar who hates Christmas has little reason to participate in a charity concert across the country. She had all but resigned herself to hiringNelson Narts, the tambourine-playing teenager in the apartment next door. Then Austin's manager, Dez, called this morning to book the performance, and she'd thought that was the end of that. She didn't expect a call from Austin; didn't even really expect to meet him until he flew into Boston in a couple days.

"Oh. Um. Hi." She wrinkles her nose. _Good job, Ally. Very eloquent._

"I was just calling to introduce myself." His voice is open, friendly, and utterly not the Grinch-like croak Ally had assigned him in her mind the moment she found out he hated Christmas. (_He sounds normal. And not green.)_ She blinks as she realizes he's still talking. "So hi. I'm Austin Moon. My favorite color is yellow, my parents own a mattress enterprise, and my best friend's name is Dez. I love singing and performing and LA-" He pauses. "And also pancakes."

"It's nice to meet you." Ally says automatically. She's not sure how to confront this new knowledge of Austin Moon. "Do you really dislike Christmas?" She blurts out. She curses herself internally the moment the question is out. _Words. Check. Voice. Check. Filter. Nope._

Fortunately, Austin doesn't sound insulted as he replies. "Yeah. I don't know. I'm just not a big Christmas person." Ally can practically hear his shrug over the phone. "It just seems like a waste of time and energy put into a holiday that's essentially sold to us by corporations using it to market their products: toys, clothes, even music."

"B-Wha-But-" Ally splutters. "That's not it at all! It's about Christmas spirit: Christmas carols and hot chocolate, family, friends, snow and holly and pine trees. It's about a season that makes people _happy. _How can you be so cynical about that?"

"I think we're just going to have to agree to disagree on that one." Austin says placidly.

Ally frowns, before remembering he can't see her over the phone. She hates the thought of someone as young as her already so _jaded. _Austin seems charming and quirky and kind otherwise, but in the tones of holiday cynicism she catches the vague sense of loss: and unexpectedly, it tugs at her heartstrings. Maybe that's what possesses her to reply the way she does.

"Well, Austin Moon. I'm Ally Dawson. My favorite color is blue, my dad owns a music store, my mom's an author, and my best friend's name is Trish. I like pickles and pianos and music. I love Christmas. And I'm going to change your mind."

Then, before she loses her nerve (and so she doesn't have to hear his reply), she moves right into a hurried goodbye.

"MeetyouwhenyougettoBostononTuesdaysafetravelsandhappyholidaysbye!"

Then she flips her phone shut and sits back, a little shocked at her own audacity.

"Ally, what have you gotten yourself into?"

* * *

Next up: A meeting, some holiday planning, and who knows what else...


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all for your lovely responses to the last chapter! Lots of motivation to continue; I hope you all know how much I appreciate it. And in story news, movin' right along. A bit of a slowish chapter; lots of dialogue, not a ton of seasonal influence yet, but Christmassy things to come...I think? This story's still a bit jumbled in my head.

As always, please let me know if y'all are feeling it/hate it/neutral/don't care for the author's notes/etc. Thanks guys!

* * *

_"And Max, the king of all wild things, _

_was lonely and wanted to be _

_where someone loved him best of all."_

**_-_Maurice Sendak_, Where the Wild Things Are_**

"Ally, you're going to wear a hole in our kitchen floor if you keep pacing like that."

Ally starts, whirling to see Trish standing in the kitchen doorway with an amused expression on her face.

"I'm just nervous."

"About your first meeting with Austin today?" Trish walks past Ally to lean against the kitchen counter, twisting open a bottle of water. "Is the Christmas thing still bothering you?"

"I just don't understand him." Ally resumes her pacing. "He's friends with Kira, so he can't be terrible. And over the phone, he seemed like a normal, functioning human being. But when he talks about Christmas, it's like he's Bruce Banner turning into the hulk. Except, instead of turning into a bright green rage monster, he turns into a bright green, cynical Grinch!"

Trish snorts into her water. "I think that's taking it a little bit far, Ally." She caps the bottle. "Have you ever thought that maybe he's just not that into Christmas? It's not unheard of." It's rare that she plays the voice of reason in their friendship, and she has to admit that she finds Ally's dramatics a little hilarious.

Ally takes a long breath as she turns to look at her best friend. "I know I'm being a little crazy." She tilts her head thoughtfully. "The thing is, I don't know if it's all him, this Christmas-hating thing. His whole "commercialized holiday" rant just sounded tired, or rehearsed or something. Like an excuse. I think... I don't know." Ally looks troubled. "He got famous so early. I think maybe he's just never really had a real Christmas."

"Ally, sometimes you think too much." Trish says bluntly. "You haven't even met the guy yet. I think turning his life into the plot of a Hugh Grant holiday movie is a little much."

Ally glares at her friend without venom. "Maybe you're right. Since when did you become the sensible one?" She says as she shrugs on her coat and grabs her keys.

"Right about around the time Austin Moon got under your skin." Trish murmurs, nodding goodbye as Ally walks out the door.

* * *

Boston Logan International Airport is filled with fur-lined coats and puffy down jackets and Austin looks dubiously at the snow through the windows at baggage claim.

"Why couldn't it have been Hawaii." He grumbles as he hoists his suitcase off the conveyor belt.

His phone buzzes and he digs it out of his pocket as he pulls his hat lower over his forehead; it's a text from Dez with his car service, hotel reservation and the address of the studio where he's supposed to meet Ally. All Austin really wants to do is check into his hotel, order passably decent pancakes and collapse into bed, but he's got this meeting to get to. He got up for his flight at four in the morning, to subvert the rush of the crowds as much as possible; he doesn't like taking the label's private jets, so flying always requires a few layers of early mornings and disguises: hats, sunglasses and once, memorably, a fake nose piercing.

He checks the time as he walks quickly towards the taxi station. There's a three-hour time difference between the coasts, and it's an odd shift to adjust to; it's brunch/lunchtime back home, but mid-afternoon here. _(he still wants pancakes.) _Austin makes his way to the car lot, where he spots the black sedan Dez mentioned in his text. He shakes hands with the driver, throws his suitcase in the trunk, and calls Dez as they pull out of the lot.

"Whasdlkfawt."

Austin looks at the phone, confused. "Dez?"

He hears a shuffling noise before Dez comes back to the phone. "Sorry. I was eating a peanut butter and turkey sandwich."

"A what?"

"A peanut butter and turkey sandwich." Dez hums pensively. "I think I put some M&Ms in there too."

"I can't decide if that's brilliant or really gross."

"Me neither. And I'm the one eating it. Anyways. How's Boston?"

"Just landed. Taking the car to the studio now." Austin buckles his seat belt as they merge onto the main streets.

"Oh yeah, the meeting. I think Ally's already there; she emailed me for some paperwork a few minutes ago." Dez says through a mouthful of sandwich.

An unconscious smile slips across Austin's face at the sound of Ally's name. "She's interesting." Austin's not sure what it is about this girl that he finds so intriguing: their conversation on Sunday left him pensive and oddly entertained, and he's not entirely sure who he's expecting to meet. It's a nice change from the predictability of Hollywood. A bump in the road jolts Austin into realizing that Dez has been rambling for a few minutes.

"...and speaking of other interesting things, I was talking to a squirrel the other day and he was sayi-Austin, are you still there?"

"Yup." The car slows and Austin looks out the window. "I'm at the studio now though, I think, so I have to go."

"Tell Ally I said hi." Dez pauses. "And be nice."

Austin's voice is affronted. "I'm always nice, Dez."

"Yeah, yeah. And have fun."

"I'll do my best."

* * *

Austin hangs up and steps out of the car after tipping the driver. He leans his head back to look at the building. It's a renovated brownstone, old brick and crystalline windows, with worn, wooden double doors: solid, dependable and vastly different from LA architecture. He steps into the lobby just as a man rushes past him on a cell phone, in a blur of paper and arm waving.

"No, these terms and conditions absolutely don't work. I'm not signing this. Let me talk to Prescott's manager. And someone get me a cup of coffee. I need to breathe." The man hurtles through the doors, still talking rapidly into the phone. A petite brunette follows close behind him, looking harried. She stops in the lobby when she sees the man pacing outside. With a sigh, she turns back around, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. She doesn't notice Austin until he clears his throat.

"Oh!" She jumps and lets out a startled breath. "I didn't see you there." She smiles brightly as she extends a hand. "I'm Ally. Ally Dawson. And you must be Austin."

"Yup." He reaches out to shake her hand, nodding his head in the direction of the man pacing outside. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah." Ally sighs. "Sam's a bit of a character."

"He seems a little-" Austin pauses. "High-strung." He finishes carefully.

Ally looks amused at his attempt to be tactful. "That's one way to put it." She turns, gesturing for him to follow. "Anyways. I don't want to keep you for too long, so I'll just brief you on everything really quickly." Austin takes a minute to study her before following. He's not quite sure who he expected, but it definitely wasn't someone who, more than anyone he's ever met, resembles a Disney princess. Ally's all floral prints and sunshine smiles, umber curls and wide eyes, and he finds himself thinking that she's kind of gorgeous, before he shakes himself out of his quiet assessment. He speeds up to catch up with her as she turns into what looks like her office. She hands him a few papers and a pen. "As the performer, there's not much that you have to do besides sign a few forms, unless you want to get involved with any of the logistical things." She seems a little apprehensive to even suggest it, but Austin shrugs.

"Sign me up for anything. I'm here to help."

Ally looks at him curiously. "You're sure?"

"Absolutely." Dez had advised him to get as involved as possible, and Austin's not going to lie, he's a little motivated by the idea of getting to know Ally better.

"Huh." She sounds a little stunned, and Austin's grin widens. He thinks he's going to like surprising this girl.

* * *

Two days later, they're in her office again. Ally's stamping envelopes and Austin's folding invitations, and she gets up to throw away an ink-stained paper towel. She pauses near the trashcan to observe Austin for a moment. She hadn't expected him to volunteer to help: really only suggested it on a whim. That first day, she'd been dubious as to the usefulness of working with someone like Austin (_famous, charming, aggravating, utterly distracting)_, but he's surprisingly productive. Maybe because Christmas has only come up in passing, but she's softening in her early assumptions about Austin. And against her better judgment, Ally can't help noticing the way his shirt slopes across his shoulders, the deft cadence of his hands, or the easy grace of the grin he tosses in her direction when he catches her watching. She flushes and clears her throat uncomfortably.

"How's the folding coming along?"

"Just dandy." He replies with a yawn, stretching in his chair. "Although I think your invitations are the sole cause of global warning." He says seriously.

"I'll have you know that I care very deeply about the environment." Ally's voice is indignant, and she doesn't notice Austin's eyes dancing with mirth. "I have energy-efficient lights, I regulate my shower times, I always recycle. For goodness sake, I drive a Prius!"

"I was joking." Austin says with a grin. "But you regulate your shower times? Are you serious?"

"I try not to waste water." Ally smooths her skirt down, a little embarrassed.

"What about Christmas?"

"What _about_ Christmas?" Ally's voice is confused.

"All the lights, and the parades, and cutting down trees?" Austin says sensibly. "Isn't that wasteful?"

"That's completely different." Ally splutters.

"How?" Austin asks calmly.

"It's a holiday." Ally replies emphatically. "A time for joy, and spirit, and celebration."

"So a holiday's an excuse to be wasteful?" He retorts.

"That's not what I was saying." She forgets about her earlier embarrassment as she glares at Austin.

There's a few beats of silence before Austin breaks the tension.

"You don't like me, do you?" He sounds almost entertained.

"I don't not like you." Ally protests, trying to explain herself. "You just confuse me. That's all." She pauses. "And also you're annoying."

Austin grins unapologetically as he reaches over to tug on a curl escaped from her ponytail. "I prefer endearing."

"Do you have any impulse control?" Ally moves his wrist aside with a pointed frown, but there's no venom behind it. The frustration is fading fast, leaving in its wake a wistful goodwill towards this ridiculous, brightly charming, lost boy in front of her.

"Nope." Austin answers her question gleefully. "I've been told it contributes to my image as a bad boy, brooding artist-type."

Ally wrinkles her nose. "That's _awful_ Austin. And wildly inaccurate." She leans to pick up a box of finished invitations. "The only thing bad or brooding about you is your odd aversion to Christmas."

Austin pops the nonexistent collar on his shirt. "You're just jealous of my swag." Ally smiles despite herself until he tugs on her hair again. She bats him away half-heartedly with one hand as she heaves the box into his arms.

"Okay man of mystery." She untapes the top of the box. "You and your ego can carry those to the lobby. It's all the invitations we have to mail out. Think you can handle it?"

Austin's voice is jokingly offended. "Don't you trust me, Ally Dawson?"

Ally looks at him thoughtfully. "Yeah. I do." Her reply has more gravity than either of them anticipated, and she turns to throw away the tape, avoiding eye contact. She catches a glimpse of an empty coffee cup in the trash can and her mind whirs. She spins around to meet Austin's curious gaze.

"Everything good?"

"Put the box down."

Austin sets the box on the floor. "But I thought we had to mail these?" He says, puzzled.

"Later." Ally grabs his jacket and tosses it to him. "Right now, we're going out for hot chocolate."

"Hot chocolate?"

"Yup. And not just any hot chocolate. Peppermint hot chocolate." Ally says brightly.

Austin stares at her as if she's grown a second head. "What about the invitations?"

"Christmas spirit waits for no man." Ally replies impatiently, already pulling her coat over her shoulders. She pauses to look at him. "Don't you trust me, Austin Moon?" She echoes his words, eyes earnest.

Austin sighs. "Using my words against me. Santa Claus would not approve." He grumbles as he puts on his jacket. "Fine. But this doesn't mean I like Christmas. I just want chocolate."

"That's how it staaarts." Ally sings teasingly. "Soon you'll be falalaing with the rest of us." She trips lightly out the door. "Come on. I know the best hot chocolate place."

"This girl." He mutters under his breath as he follows. _What is it about you that makes me want to change?_

* * *

Next up: More Christmassy things, maybe a song or two?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry about the delay! These characters/plot are more difficult than I'd anticipated. This story pretty much takes place over one month so I'm approaching it kind of the way I did with i hope you don't mind (i.e. segmented bits of dialogue/interaction). If you guys don't like it this way though, let me know! And as always, please review/critique/etc.! Thanks!

Also (as y'all have probably noticed) I have changed the title; _snow and mistletoe _was always kind of a placeholder until yesterday, when I heard Howie Day's Collide on the radio (at 3 in the morning) and wrote this chapter. I'm sorry about any confusion that might ensue!

* * *

_and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you _

_here is the deepest secret nobody knows _

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;_

_which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide) _

_and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart _

_i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)_

-**e.e. cummings**

The air is thick with sugar and chocolate as Ally pulls Austin into L.A. Burdick. Austin shakes snow out of his hair and looks at her accusingly. "You didn't tell me we were taking the subway."

"I didn't know you'd get mobbed." Ally says apologetically. "We got here, didn't we?"

"Yeah, because you made us _walk._" Austin adopts an air of martyrdom. "In the _snow._"

Ally suppresses her amusement as she looks at him equally seriously. "Fine, Mr. Lazypants. I'll just leave you to the teenage girls next time."

Austin's expression immediately drops into a look of abject terror, and Ally bursts into laughter.

"That was not th-" Then he pauses. "Wait. Did you just call me Mr. Lazypants?"

Ally nods, still laughing. "Got a problem with that?"

"I think the last person to call me that was my mom, when i was in, like, elementary school." He chuckles. "You're a kindergartner."

"Well your mother is a wise woman." She replies as they reach the front of the line. "And I'm not deigning the second part of that with a reply." She turns to the cashier. "Two peppermint hot chocolates for here, please." Ally says politely. "And two slices of gingerbread."

The girl behind the register looks supremely bored as she punches in the order. "eight dollars and forty-two cents is your total."

Austin stills Ally's wrist before she pays, and she stares, bemused, as he reaches for his wallet.

"But you didn't even want to come."

"Just trying to be a gentleman." Austin says as he nods at the cashier, who giggles and blushes, suddenly attentive. He hands over a credit card, and the girl sighs regretfully.

"I'm sorry, we're cash only."

"Oh." Austin looks bewildered at the possibility that there's anywhere left on earth that doesn't take an AmEx.

"Don't be silly. I'm the one who dragged you here." Ally hands over a ten-dollar bill with a polite smile before turning back to him. "You can pay me back in Christmas spirit?"

Austin grimaces. "Not my kind of currency."

The cashier takes the money without looking in Ally's direction. "Can I get you anything else?" She says, beaming brightly at Austin.

"Actually-" Ally's about to ask for change when Austin leans into the counter with a charming smirk and the cashier turns away to face him fully. Ally rolls her eyes. "Boys." She mutters under her breath, as she walks towards an open table near the window.

Austin catches up with her a few minutes later, juggling two mugs piled high with whipped cream, a torn piece of paper, and looking all too satisfied with himself.

"Brooke says the gingerbread'll be out in a bit. They're baking a fresh batch right now." He slides into the seat across from Ally. "So is this hot chocolate going to rock my universe?"

"Yup; it's phenomenal. Just try it." Ally wraps slim fingers around her mug as she assesses Austin over the rim. "Brooke?"

"Yeah, the cashier. She's nice. Turns out, her younger sister's actually a fan of mine; she asked for an autograph." Austin replies, absorbed with blowing on his chocolate to cool it.

"And she gave you her number in return? I'm not sure her sister's the only fan." Ally raises her eyebrows incredulously. "She didn't even give me my _change." _

Austin grins, looking up as he reaches across the table to tug on a loose strand of hair. "Don't be jealous Ally-gator. You know you're my number one girl."

Ally chokes on her first sip as she feels her cheeks heat up. "First of all, that is definitely not my name. Second of all, you've known me all of _two days_. And I'm not jealous."

Austin shrugs. "Whatever you say, Jealous McJealouspants." He says glibly, returning his focus to the mug in his hands. "You were right. This is _awesome._"

Ally gapes. "And you accused me of being a kindergartner?"

Austin chooses to ignore her statement in favor of the tray coming in their direction.

"Oh look, Brooke's bringing the gingerbread out." He frowns thoughtfully. "Were there more buttons on her shirt earlier?"

Ally buries her head in her arms with a groan.

* * *

"Ally?"

"Hm?" Ally murmurs absently as she marks another item on her to-do list. "And then I have to call the caterer-" There's no follow-up from Austin and she looks up to see him examining a snowglobe from the corner of her desk.

"This is nice."

"Yeah." Ally's voice is a little contemplative. "It's one of my favorite presents." It was a Christmas gift from her mom a few years back, small figurines gliding on a snowy, forested lake. She loves it because it reminds her of childhood skating trips, back before her mom went to Africa and her parents got divorced: when her family was altogether. These days, she spends Christmas with one parent and New Year's with the other; her mom's almost always abroad, and she rarely gets back to the States, even for the holidays. Austin's voice interrupts her reverie.

"Why?"

Ally sets the pen down and rests her chin in her hands. "It reminds me of skating with my parents when I was growing up. Every year, they'd take me out of school for a day and we'd spend all morning in our pajamas decorating the Christmas tree and singing along to Christmas carols. Then we'd go skating, at this indoor rink by my house; it was Miami, so there was never any real snow. That day was always when it felt like the holidays had started." She sighs, straightening back up. "It stopped when I got older: my parents got divorced and then my mom was out of the country a lot, so it was hard to keep it going."

Austin feels a little off-balance as he looks at the globe again. He expected a vague reason or a quirky story, but this is candid and real in a way that Hollywood hasn't taught him to react to.

"Do you still skate?"

She nods. "Trish and I went every winter when we were at UCLA. I don't think she cared much for it though; I think she came just so I'd have someone to carry on the tradition with." Ally smiles softly. "She's the best."

Austin sets the globe back down and watches Ally for a few moments. She's quiet, and she seems pensive: not quite sad, but wistful. Something tugs in Austin's chest when he meets her eyes.

"Lets go skating." He says abruptly.

"Right now?" Ally looks startled as she tilts her head questioningly. "But you don't even like Christmas."

Austin smiles crookedly. "I thought you were going to convince me to change my mind?"

Ally's eyes light up at the recollection. "Okay. Just let me grab my coat."

* * *

"It's closed for renovations." Ally sighs disappointedly as they walk up to the locked gates of the outdoor rink in Boston Commons. "We should probably just head back to the studio then."

Austin's about to say something _(he hopes)_ issuitably comforting when he catches a glimpse of a sign across the street.

"I've got a better idea." He grabs her hand and pulls her behind him as he walks briskly across the street.

"Where are we-" Ally pauses as they approach the building and she reads the front door. "An arcade?"

Austin opens the door and ushers her in ahead of him. "We're making new Christmas traditions."

* * *

Between the two of them, they've played half the games in the arcade. They've got four tokens left when Ally spies a two-person basketball hoop game.

"Austin?" She yells across the room.

"Yeah?" His voice drifts from behind the pinball machines.

"Didn't you say you played basketball in high school?"

"Yeah. I was a starter my sophomore year, before Jimmy Starr discovered me. Why?" He pops his head around to see where she is, and he grins, walking over.

"So varsity," Ally says cheekily. "Think you can keep up?"

He smirks. "Is that almost-trash-talk I hear? Oh, you're on Dawson."

He puts the tokens into the machine and it whirs to life. He picks up the first basketball, spinning it on his finger before tossing it in the air and catching it with a satisfying thump.

"Show-off." Ally sticks out her tongue at him as she fumbles the ball in her hands.

Austin raises an eyebrow. "With your coordination, you might have more luck with your eyes closed, Ally-gator."

Ally glares at him. "Just start the game."

Austin chuckles as he presses the button and the timer counts down. _This is going to be so easy._

Three minutes and forty one baskets later, he's staring at her in shock.

"You literally just threw balls _backwards _for the last minute. How did that even happen?"

He can tell Ally's just as surprised as him, but she quickly schools her confused glee into a serious expression.

"I will never reveal my secrets young grasshopper." She intones.

Austin looks at her with a curious mixture of amusement and exasperation.

"What?" Ally asks lightly.

"Nothing." His voice is sheepish. "Just, is there anything that you can't do?"

"Yes." She replies forlornly. "Whistle." She finishes, just as the machine spits out seventy-two tickets for her and a paltry thirty for him.

He whistles the tune of We are the Champions as they take their tickets to the prize counter, and she laughs and shoves him playfully.

"Dork."

She drops her tickets onto the counter and leans onto her hands so she can see the prizes on the higher shelves. Austin feels a flash of amusement at how little she is before a boy with the nametag Dallas comes out from the back room. He looks at Ally's tickets and lets out a long, low whistle.

"Someone's a high roller."

He's looking at her with equal parts awe and interest and Austin feels an odd twinge of possessiveness. He drapes an arm over her shoulder and shoots a look at the boy before turning to Ally.

"So, Ally D. Pick your poison. What's it going to be?"

"I don't know." She wrinkles her nose. "I'm indecisive. You go first."

Austin hands over his tickets and Dallas tucks them under the counter. He gestures to a shelf of candy and rubber bouncy balls. "You can get any three of those, or any two of these." He waves to another shelf of yoyos. "Or you can get a keychain."

Austin pretends to deliberate for a few moments, but he already knows what he's going to get; the keychains range from creepy clown heads to miniature journals, but there's one in particular that he likes, though he's not sure why. _It reminds him of Ally._

"I'll take that one." He points to an overstuffed goose hanging in the second row. Dallas takes it out and drops it into Austin's hand. He turns to Ally. "To the winner go the spoils." Austin presents the goose to her with a dramatic bow, and Ally laughs.

"Thank you kindly, dear sir." She executes a wobbly curtsy, before taking the goose. She cups it carefully in her hands, bringing it to eye level. "I'm going to call you Pickles." She says decisively.

"Pickles?" Dallas interjects and Austin glares at him, despite his own intentions to mock _(but gently!) _the name.

"Pickles are her favorite food." He says curtly.

Ally beams at him. "I can't believe you remember that."

His face softens. "Of course I remember. It's weird." He pulls a curl gently and she swats at him.

"Hair. Off-limits."

"Yeah, yeah." Austin dodges her hand and points to the tickets on the counter. "You've still got to pick something."

Ally turns to Dallas and points to an enormous blue dolphin hanging from the top of the prize counter. "How much is that one?"

"That's a hundred tickets." Dallas reaches to unhook it, and hands it to Ally. Her sigh of disappointment turns to a delighted gasp as he winks at her. "But go ahead and take it."

Austin barely has time to be annoyed with this Dallas guy _(Who even has a name like Dallas anyways? Everyone knows Austin is the better city in Texas) _before his vision is completely obscured by blue fluff.

"He's for you. Merry Christmas!" Ally's voice is exuberant and the corners of Austin's mouth turn up at the sound.

"You know, this Christmas thing might not be so bad."

"I knew you'd come around." Ally hugs him around the dolphin. "So, what are you going to name him?" She steps back, eyes expectant as he adjusts the stuffed animal in his arms so it's facing him.

"Dougie."

"Dougie? Dougie the dolphin? Really?"

"You got a problem with my stellar alliteration?" Austin ruffles her hair as they move towards the exit.

"No, I love alliteration. I am the _queen _of alliteration." Ally protests as she clips her keychain onto her purse. "You know, some people even call me Alliteration Ally."

Austin snorts. "Really?"

"Well, no. But they could!"

"Okay, Alliteration Ally."

"Never mind. Scrap that." She pauses to face him as they step into the chilly Boston afternoon. "And thank you, Austin. Not just for Pickles, although I do love him. But for helping me find a new tradition. And I guess everything's better with a little healthy competition, right?" _(Everything's better with you.)_

"Next time, we'll just have to see if your random burst of luck holds." _(There's going to be a next time.)_

"Do you want hot chocolate?"

"Sure. Maybe we'll see Brooke again."

"...Boys."

* * *

Somewhere in the next few weeks, that first hot chocolate break becomes somewhat of a tradition: a snippet of the season that Austin realizes is the best part of his day. They stop by after work most days, staying anywhere between a few minutes and a few hours. Ally always brings a bit of holiday cheer with her: a CD for Austin to listen to, an copy of _Love Actually, _an advent calendar filled with guitar picks. A week into working with Ally, Austin finds himself humming along to Mariah Carey on the radio, and it catches him off guard, how quickly Ally has wound herself through the spaces in his life. One Sunday morning, Ally finds herself spending two hours researching the best pancakes in Boston, and thinks the very same of Austin.

So mugs empty, time passes, and they muddle along as people finding each other are wont to do. Holiday shoppers passing by L.A. Burdick stop every once in awhile to smile at the sight of the couple framed by the window: the tall golden-haired boy and the tiny brunette girl, caught in a world of their own. Two weeks into December, Ally's describing the anatomy of a perfect snow day, and Austin grins against the rim of his mug. Ally impatiently brushes a light-gilded strand of hair from her vision, eyes wide and giddy and hopelessly enthusiastic as she sketches a snowman onto a wrinkled napkin and tucks it into Austin's wallet.

"To remind you that snowmen are what you make of them_._ Like Christmas."

It's moments like this, when she's haloed by sunshine and the clarity of boundless joy, that Austin wonders at this girl's capacity to set his world on fire.

_(So mugs empty a little slower, time passes a little faster, Ally smiles a little brighter and Austin falls a little harder.)_

* * *

Next up: Mistletoe madness and tree decorating (tentative plan)...


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Rough chapter, but it's out. As always, please let me know what you all think. Thanks for reading!

(Quote from _Love Actually_, if you can spot it!)

* * *

_"...the night dropped_  
_down until the _  
_only sounds were_  
_the crickets and_  
_the dance of our voices_

_and for a moment_  
_the world became_  
_small enough to_  
_roll back and forth _  
_between us."_

_**-Brian Andreas**_

"Need some help?"

Ally yelps in surprise and windmills her arms backwards, almost tripping over a large pile of fake snow. An arm hooks around her waist to steady her and she looks up to meet Austin's amused gaze.

"You okay there?"

She stands up and dusts herself off with a dismayed grimace. "Coordination. Who needs it?" She grumbles under her breath. "I was fine until you came along being sneaky." She points at Austin in lighthearted accusation. "You should wear bells."

"I didn't know you were going react like that." Austin holds up his hands in protest. "Although I can't say that I minded having you fling yourself at me." He nudges her playfully, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Dawson, you never need to make up a flimsy excuse to fall into my arms."

"Okay, Casanova." Ally snorts as she shoves a box at him. "Go charm these decorations into submission with your flirty...flirting."

"Creative." Austin grins, ducking away as she whacks his shoulder. "Alliteration Ally strikes again!" He yells over his shoulder as he walks towards the other side of the ballroom.

Ally's responding laugh turns into a sigh as she turns back to her clipboard. The number of things on her to-do list is a little ludicrous, and it's only growing longer. It's less than a week until the fundraiser, and all the prep work is in full swing. The promise of a rare holiday concert by Austin Moon drew record crowds, and public tickets for the gala sold out within a matter of days. RSVPs from invited guests are at an all-time high, and currently, they've made almost four hundred thousand dollars in ticket sales alone.

The Boston Conservatory's event director contacted Ally pretty early on about booking a space at the Park Plaza Hotel, and he and Ally have been emailing back and forth for a few weeks about themes and decorations. Austin's performance is the showcase of the night, but it's preceded by dinner and a charity auction, with donations from various stores and restaurants around the city. Now, she and a few dozen volunteers are working their way through readying the ballroom for the gala: figuring out the speakers, wiring the balconies for sound, setting up a few proactive decorations. Austin ran through sound check in the morning, and Ally smiles a little as she remembers the snippets she caught of his set list. Despite his adamant denial, she knows there's a reluctant affection for Christmas that's worked it's way into his heart; Austin's performance contract only specifies one Christmas song, but he's slipped a few of her favorites in between his own radio hits. She looks up to glance at the boy in question, across the room, trading jokes with a starstruck volunteer as they wrap bows around the ballroom's columns. It's funny, she thinks, turning back around with a sigh as a panicked woman approaches her saying something about "over-committed" and "capacity." Then there's a paperwork emergency and a fallen chandelier and by the time it's all over, the thought's slipped her mind. _Funny that she tried to light up his Christmas, and somewhere along the way, he lit up her world._

* * *

"Hey Dez." Austin holds the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he swipes his keycard at the door to his suite. The lock clicks open and he steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He tosses the card onto the coffee table as he collapses onto the couch with a groan.

His best friend's laugh crackles over the line. "Dude. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just, went to get Ally's Christmas tree with her today and she made me carry it to her car." Austin rolls his left shoulder back and winces. "I feel like I gave a piggyback ride to a small country."

"You went to a Christmas tree lot?" Dez's voice is incredulous. "Of your own free will?"

Austin nods before he remembers that Dez can't see him. "It's not that big of a deal."

"What happened to Christmas being commercialized? And fake? And the product of big corporations?"

"Well." Austin pauses. "I don't know. It's kind of been growing on me lately. I think maybe getting out of Hollywood for a bit helped." He continues thoughtfully. "Or it's just holiday magic?"

Dez murmurs something that Austin can't quite make out, his tone faintly disbelieving. "Are you sure it isn't the doing of a certain songwriter you seem to be spending quite a lot of time with?" He asks pointedly.

"Ally's awesome. I've never met anyone like her." Austin says frankly. "But-" He tilts his head. "I know what you're thinking. And we're just friends. Not anything more."

"Why not?" Dez's question is straightforward, and not for the first time, Austin finds himself wondering the same thing. There's plenty of flirting and teasing in their exchanges, but also serious, honest conversations, and Ally knows him better than some people he's known for half his life. And sometimes, she looks at him, or smiles a certain way, and he thinks that the possibility of something more is so close it's almost tangible. But there's always an interruption, or a shift, or a moment of unrest and then they're back to jokes and laughter and friendship. Anything else, he supposes, would just be...

"Complicated." He expels a sharp breath. "It's complicated."

"Does it have to be?"

"I don't know." Austin replies honestly. "I really don't."

There's a long pause from the other end before his best friend responds.

"I'm flying in tomorrow." Austin can hear the grin in Dez's voice as he continues. "Love whisperer to the rescue. You're obviously lost without me, Moon."

"Dude, no one calls you that." Austin laughs before he remembers something he wanted to ask Dez. "So Ally invited both of us over to her and her roommate's apartment tomorrow, to help decorate their Christmas tree. You up for it?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." Dez's voice is a little knowing. "Austin Moon. Christmas tree decorator. Who woulda thunk it."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Big changes." Austin says good-naturedly. There's a rush of noise before Dez replies.

"Sorry. Dropped the phone into the jam for a second." He sounds muted and Austin chuckles quietly at his best friend's oddities. "I'm going to go pack and chat with the squirrels outside my window." Dez continues. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yup. Good luck with packing. And, you know, the squirrel thing."

* * *

"I think my sweater is worse."

Ally waves a dismissive hand at Trish's declaration. "Trish, mine has pompoms in eight different colors, plaid and striped sleeves, and there are _red and purple-fringed reindeer _dancing on the front."

The duo have a bit of an ugly Christmas sweater competition every year as they decorate the tree, and this year, Ally's convinced she's picked the winner. Trish's sweater is green wool covered with glittery yellow stars and multi-colored, polka-dotted, sequined Christmas trees, and it's fairly hideous, but Ally's wearing something that's so garish she cringes every time she passes anything remotely reflective.

"Fine. You win." Trish sighs dramatically in defeat. She giggles as she glances at Ally's sweater again. "It really is kind of scary."

The doorbell rings just as Ally's about to take her gracious victory bow.

"Oh, that must be Austin and Dez!" She looks down at her sweater and makes a face. "They might take off running the second I open the door."

Trish shrugs as she bends down to open the first box of Christmas ornaments. "Hey, that is the test of true friendship. Braving the blinding intimidation of that sweater."

"This'll be hard to top next year." Ally calls over her shoulder as she moves towards the front of the apartment. She opens the door just as the two boys come tumbling in, tripping over the stoop at her feet.

"Um, hello." She says with concern as she slams the door shut against the snow outside. She turns to face them. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy keen, my friend, peachy keen." Dez clambers to his feet and sticks out his hand with a wide grin. "Nice to meet you, Ally Dawson, e-mail font Calibri."

Ally laughs as she shakes his hand. "Is that my defining characteristic? The font I use in my e-mails?"

"Well, that, and Austin also talks about you a lot. Like, all the ti-" Dez's voice is muffled as Austin, finally upright, covers his best friend's mouth with his hand. He smiles brightly at Ally.

"Hello Ally-gator. How's life?" Both of them look at the redhead glaring mutinously at Austin. "Don't mind Dez." He continues. "He has no filter. And he's a pathological liar."

Ally blinks. "Okay." She shrugs off her confusion as she leads them into the apartment. Trish has already started with the bottom branches of the tree, and she turns to the group in the doorway with a quick wave.

"This is Trish, my roommate." Ally gestures to Austin and Dez. "This is Austin, who you've met, and Dez, Austin's manager."

"Nice to meet you." Dez seems to have recovered just fine from the episode in the front hallway. He and Austin, thick as thieves again, move towards the tree to help Trish with the ornaments and Ally shakes her head in amusement as she joins them. _Boys._

* * *

Ally's standing at the kitchen island, pouring herself a mug of hot chocolate from the pot on the stove, when Austin joins her.

"Thanks for inviting me." He elbows her gently.

"Thanks for coming." She beams at him. "The tree looks great." And it does; evidently, Dez has a knack for decorating, and had immediately taken charge of directing their ornament placement. Now their tree is shimmering and gilded, and looks like something out of the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog.

"Yeah. I had no idea Dez was an undercover HGTV star." Austin glances at his best friend, who's making minute adjustments to certain branches as Trish looks on, thoroughly entertained. "Also, I never told you earlier, but I like your sweater." He tugs on a pompom dangling from her sleeve, and Ally's cheeks flush.

"It's terrifying, I know." She wrinkles her nose. "I don't even know who decided something like this was store-worthy." She brightens. "But I did win the ugly sweater contest. Mine beat Trish's by a mile."

They stand in silence for a few beats before Austin leans over and plucks Ally's mug out of her hands, taking a sip of her hot chocolate nonchalantly.

"Give it back!" Ally reaches for it as Austin raises it above his head. She bounces onto her tiptoes, nowhere close to touching the mug. Then she pauses. Dangling above their heads is a delicate sprig of mistletoe that she's pretty positive is Trish's doing.

"Huh." She murmurs.

Austin leans up in the direction of her gaze and breathes sharply. "Oh." He says blankly as he lowers the mug back to the counter. "Should we-"

"It's fine." Ally says hurriedly. There's a feeling in the pit of her stomach that's telling her kissing Austin is a bad idea, would be a paradigm shift in the precarious balance of their relationship right now.

"Ally Dawson, are you scared?" Austin raises an eyebrow as he looks down at her. He sneaks a glance sideways at their best friends, both entirely occupied with bickering over the Christmas tree. He's not sure which one of them to thank for this (it may be Trish's apartment, but Dez is surprisingly sneaky) but he'll chalk it up to Santa Claus and call it a day.

"No, I'm not scared." Ally protests. "I just don't want to make things awkward." She finishes lamely.

"Aren't you all about Christmas traditions? What about this one makes it an exception?" Austin says reasonably.

"I gue-I mean-" Ally stops and takes a deep breath, as if screwing up her courage. Then she jumps up on her toes and presses a quick peck to the corner of Austin's mouth. He barely has time to react before she drops back to her feet. "There." She blinks at him expectantly. "Happy?"

His lips twitch upwards. "I guess this is the first Christmas tradition I'm going to have to teach you how to do properly." Austin murmurs. He pulls her to him and she stumbles a little, wrapping her arms around his neck to stabilize herself. Then he's bending her against the counter, lips a breath a way from hers. "Merry Christmas, Ally."

His mouth slants over hers and her heart skips a beat as she leans into the kiss. Austin brushes his thumb against her cheekbone as her hands tangle into his hair and for a blissful few moments, the world fades away. The sound of shattering and a surprised intake of breath draws them apart, and Austin turns to see Trish standing in the kitchen entryway with barely suppressed glee, pieces of ceramic shattered at her feet.

"I'm just going to-" She waves her hands in the general direction of the living room and then gives Ally a not-so-discreet thumbs up. "Carry on then." She disappears around the corner before reappearing in the living room, only to pull Dez with her towards the front foyer, where frenzied whispering ensues.

Austin turns back around when he hears Ally stammer.

"That was-" She looks at a loss for words.

"A damn good kiss."

"We can't do this, Austin." She looks like she's about to cry, and Austin's heart sinks: both at her words, and the look on her face. He tucks a curl behind her ear and slides his fingers in a path down her arm to tangle their fingers together.

"Why not?" He says boldly. "I like you, Ally. I think you're amazing. And I want to give us a try." He looks at her, suddenly uncertain. "Unless you don't-I mean, if y-"

"I like you, Austin. God, I like you way more than I should. Don't think for a second that I don't want that too. Us. It's just-" Ally pauses with a bittersweet smile. "You are so much more than I gave you credit for, Austin Moon. And in one month, you've woven yourself so inextricably into my life that I'm not really sure what I'm going to do without you." She looks down, twisting her fingers in the fringe of her sweater. "But the fact of the matter is, you live in LA and I live here. Our careers are completely different. This month was just a stop on the road for you, but this is my life. This is my world now, and Hollywood is yours." She lets out a long breath. "At the end of the day, we're two people whose paths crossed by accident and are diverging again in just a few days. And it's all just too complicated to work." She looks up at him hopefully. "Can't we be friends though?"

Austin remembers what he told Dez. _It's complicated. _"You're right." He says with a sigh, stepping back a little. It's hard to think clearly when she's that close and the world is all bright eyes and soft curls and vanilla and coffee-scented and _her. _"You're right." He repeats, and the words feel like an ending. "Friends."

Ally smiles at him, and wraps him into a quick hug, before heading into the living room. He stays for a moment, hands clenched at his sides before he finally sighs and shakes his head.

"Enough now."

* * *

"Who wants hot chocolate?" Ally's voice is deceptively cheerful as she joins Dez and Trish, but her eyes are desperately sad as they follow Austin's return from the kitchen. She and Austin barely speak for the rest of the night, and when he leaves, the goodbyes are hollow.

That night, Austin writes a new song, about ships passing in the night and the one that got away. Ally wraps herself in blankets, cradles Pickles in her hands, and pretends she isn't letting her own heart break.

* * *

Next up: Last chapter, I think! The performance, the revelations, the resolution.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Last chapter! _Love Actually _references galore, because it's my favorite movie. As always, please let me know if y'all dig it/hate it/anything else you'd like to see/etc. Thanks!

* * *

_"Even the best fall down sometimes;_  
_Even the wrong words seem to rhyme._  
_Out of the doubt that fills your mind,_  
_You finally find_  
_You and I collide."_

_**-Howie Day**_

Austin stares pensively out the window of his limousine as it weaves through the crowded holiday traffic. He and Ally have barely talked since that night at her apartment; yesterday was filled with last-minute emergencies and preparation for tonight's gala, and it just never seemed like the right time for another conversation. He knows he's just supposed to pretend that everything is the same, knows that that's what they agreed. But still, it feels like a loss, and he feels like a coward: like he let something amazing slip through his fingers. The car pulls smoothly up to the back entrance at the Park Plaza, and he hears someone clear their throat politely. It shakes him from his thoughts and he straightens in his seat, realizing they've come to a stop.

"We're here, Mr. Moon."

Austin opens his wallet to tip the driver and as he pulls out a few bills, a wrinkled paper napkin falls out. He smooths it out on his knee and breathes out slowly. It's a rough sketch of a smiling snowman, with L.A. Burdick's logo in the left corner, and Ally's words come back to him in a rush.

_To remind you that snowmen are what you make of them. Like Christmas._

"And like us." Austin murmurswonderingly. He folds the napkin gently and tucks it into his pocket as his mind whirs with new inspiration.

"Did you say something, Mr. Moon?" The chauffeur inquires politely.

"No, no, sorry." Austin hands the driver a ten with a smile and a quick thank you before he practically leaps from the car. "Happy holidays!" He says brightly as he slams the door shut and sprints to the hotel.

The driver nods to Austin. "Happy holidays to you too, Mr. Moon." He remembers a snippet of an Austin Moon interview his daughter had shown him back in November, and as he pulls away from the curb, he wonders at the kind of inspiration that can change a person so completely in a month.

* * *

The auction is in full swing, and everything's gone off pretty much without a hitch. The ballroom looks beautiful, dinner's been delicious, and the house band's set the perfect mood for light conversation. Ally's wearing a gorgeous vintage red Dior dress and Jimmy Choos (an early Christmas present from her mom) and the swirling skirts make her feel a little like a princess. Her to-do list is almost done, the night's approaching an end, and Sam's already spoken to Ally about a potential raise. The Boston Conservatory's board of directors dropped by her table with effusive praise, and they've raised more money than any previous year. The gala's already been declared a resounding success. And Ally is miserable.

Austin's performance is right after the auction finishes, and despite knowing that he's here, Ally hasn't caught more than a glimpse him all night. She's made a concentrated effort to seek him out: she'd hoped two days was enough time for things to go back to normal, but it almost feels like Austin is avoiding her. Anytime she started walking in his direction, she was intercepted by a waiter, or a sound technician, or someone else with an emergency, and she's at her wit's end.

Collapsing against the back wall with a sigh, she notes absently that the auction is coming to a close. The podium is quickly carted off the stage, and in a matter of minutes, Austin's on stage with a familiar grin and his guitar. Her heart skips a beat as she tries to catch his eye, but he's determinedly not looking in her direction. Her stomach sinks. She knew she was going to have to let him go at some point; that was her own reasoning that night. But this seems too early, too fast, and she finds herself desperately clinging to the hope that there's something left of them to salvage.

Austin opens with _I'll be Home for Christmas _and his voice is rich and bluesy, and her heart aches when she remembers that his home is three thousand miles away.

* * *

Austin's sung his last song, and almost everything's been moved off the stage when he whispers something briefly to a stagehand, who nods and hands him the microphone again. He clears his throat and the crowd bursts into hushed whispers about a potential encore. There's not another song scheduled, and Ally wonders she's the only one looks surprised that Austin deviated from script. She'd be worried if it were anyone else, but no matter what's happened between them, she knows that Austin would never do anything to mess up this night. So she waits quietly for the hubbub of the crowd to die down, as Austin begins to talk.

"So, as many of you might know, I wasn't the biggest fan of Christmas a month ago." There's a ripple of laughter in the crowd and Austin chuckles. "In fact, I pretty much thought the entire thing was a waste of time." He pauses. "Then I got here and things started changing. See, there's this girl. She's an optimist, a planner, and she loves Christmas. Pretty much the opposite of everything I am. But the thing is, she's shown me a side of the holiday that I guess I never appreciated." He slides his guitar off his shoulder and hands it to a technician in return for a wooden stool as he continues. "Her Christmas is about ugly Christmas sweaters and peppermint hot chocolate and traditions. About tree decorating and goodwill and hope, friends and family and spreading cheer. But most importantly, she's taught me that Christmas is about love. Hence the arrangement I'm about to sing." He meets Ally's eyes from across the room and grins at the shell-shocked expression on her face. "You all know her as the person who organized all this. Pretty incredible stuff." There's scattered applause and Ally blushes as she looks down. Her heart skips a beat at Austin's next words. "But I think she's also kind of a Christmas miracle. Because somewhere between hot chocolate and mistletoe, you've become my true north, Ally Dawson."

His eyes are piercing and for a moment, Ally forgets about the fundraiser, forgets about the concert and the hundreds of other people and the checklist in her hands. The room fades away as Austin looks straight at her. "So this song's for you." He picks up the microphone. "I'd also like to send a huge thank you out to the amazing group of people who are about to help me with this." He winks at the crowd. "And some of you, who might be familiar with this one."

_Love, love, love._

Ally whips around as she sees a group of the technicians stand.

_Love, love, love._

Half the catering staff joins in and she laughs helplessly. "Austin Moon, you are unbelievable." She murmurs as she turns back to the stage, a smile spreading across her face as Austin starts the achingly familiar first lines.

_There's nothing you can do that can't be done._

_There's nothing you can say that can't be sung._

_There's nothing you can say, but you can learn how to play the game,_

_it's easy..._

_All you need is love._

Ally claps along with the crowd as he gets to the the chorus and a few members of the dinner band stand with their trumpets. She knows she's falling for this boy: with his songs and his jokes and his smile, knows it with the surety of a favorite lyric or the lilt of piano keys.

_All you need is love._

And as she watches Austin sing her favorite song from her favorite movie about her favorite holiday, she can't remember a single reason not to let herself fall.

* * *

Austin finds her as the gala is ending. The ballroom is emptying and Ally's sitting in a corner of the balcony when he joins her.

"Hey."

Ally turns to stare at him. "You just serenaded me."

"Yup."

"You just serenaded me in front of hundreds of people."

"Uh huh." Austin looks a little amused at her struggle for words.

"But why?"

"Why not?" He says lightly. He shrugs as his voice grows serious. "Look, Ally. I know you have all these reasons we shouldn't be together, all these rationales as to why we'd never work." He pauses. "But have you ever thought about why we should be together?" He looks at her hopefully as he continues. "We could be amazing. And we'll never know unless we try." He looks at his hands. "I'm not a big fan of regrets, most of the time. I try to make my decisions and move on. But Ally, this is one regret that I don't think I could move on from."

There's a moment of silence as they both mull over his words, before Austin speaks again.

"I guess it really all comes down to the first question I ever asked you."

"The first question?" Ally repeats. Her world's been off-kilter since the serenade and the mistletoe kiss-and if she's being honest with herself, since Austin Moon waltzed into her life. She's hard put to remember her own name right now.

He smiles crookedly as he extends a hand to her. "Do you trust me?" _Do you trust us?_

Ally blinks at the words, an echo that sinks into her skin and sets off a rush of memories: pancakes and stuffed dolphins and window tables. Austin's breath catches in his throat as he waits for her response, heart sinking as the silence extends. Then, like a cloud lifting, Ally's face suddenly brightens and she takes his hand.

"Ally?" He asks, confused as she unceremoniously drags him towards the doors. "Where are we going?"

"To my answer." Is her cryptic reply. She pulls them outside, into the chilly night air, and turns to face him, breathless. Snow drifts lazily in the air, caught in the ambient light of the hotel. Austin's tie's loosened and his hair's mussed, and Ally thinks that this boy in front of her-charming and bewildered and achingly handsome-feels all at once like music and magic and coming home. Her fingers slope across his shoulders, almost of their own accord, and she swallows past the lump in her throat. She's not sad, not really. It's just that for the first time in her life, she's leaping without a parachute, and it's terrifying. _But this is Austin. This is us. And we're falling together. _

With that reminder, she tilts her head back to meet Austin's worried gaze. He looks tired and a little impatient, but mostly, adorably concerned.

"Ally, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"Look up." _Trust me, Austin._

"What?"

"Look up. That's my answer."

They both look up, into eddies of swirling snowflakes and light spilling from the hotel lobby, and a single bunch of mistletoe dangling in the arc of the doorway.

And as Austin turns back to Ally, she beams at him through vision hazy with tears.

"Austin Moon." Despite the tears, her voice is steady as she slips her hand into his. "You're my Christmas miracle too." He opens his mouth to reply and she stills him. "Just wait. Let me get this out first." She moves closer, eyes bright with emotion. "I've been so ridiculous, because I've been trying to be practical, and sensible, and levelheaded." She laughs a little. "But that's not how hearts work. That's not how _love _works. So even though this might be the scariest thing I've ever done, I want to take a chance on you. On us. On long distances and fame, on new beginnings-" She says softly. "But also hot chocolate kisses and New Year's resolutions and making traditions and just being together." She shrugs lightly. "I want to see what summer looks like with you, Austin."

There's a long pause as she waits for a reply. He's gaping at her, stunned, and she continues uncertainly. "Is tha-I mea-Is that alright?"

"Huh." Austin breathes. Ally steps back a little as she starts to ramble nervously.

"You look surprised. Or worried. Or something. I'm sorry if that was heavy; I promise I'm not, like, waiting for you to propose already, I mean we've only known each other a month and summer is a long way away I realize that might be thinking really far into the future and that's probably really silly of me to do considering it's onl-"

She's interrupted as Austin lets out a whoop and lifts her easily into a tight embrace, before setting her down gently and cradling her face in his hands.

"You know, Ally Dawson." He says conversationally, as she loops her arms around his neck. "You think too much." His voice is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of wonder in his voice as he pulls her in for a featherlight kiss. When he pulls back, Austin's looking at Ally like she hung the stars and she laughs giddily as he presses his lips against her forehead.

"Ally Dawson, would you like to see the fireworks with me?" He grins, tucking her arm into the crook of his elbow as they turn to walk back into the warmth of the hotel.

"Will you still be here for New Year's?"

"Those too. But I was talking about the Fourth of July fireworks. This summer."

Ally's silvery laugh echoes throughout the lobby. "Of course."

And so, backlit by snow and mistletoe and moonlight, the boy with lost eyes and the girl with starlight dreams fall just a little more into each other.

* * *

Finis! Thank you all so much for reading. Happy holidays!


End file.
